


Song of Two

by YaminoTenshi202



Series: September [3]
Category: Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Conspiracy, Death, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were Five Rules you had to follow in Nearbeens.</p><p>One - Your Registered name was the name that you went by in all social situations.<br/>Two - Your True name was only revealed to your Family, your Magistrate, and your Mate.<br/>Three - Never interact with the other Territories or wander near the Boundaries of Nearbeens.<br/>Four - Obey the Rules of your Class (Class designation listed in the Dharmas)<br/>Five - In the most special of Cases, a Subject may be exempt. However, no Royals can sway from the Subordination to these rules.</p><p>-</p><p>That was the final tie, Cry realised; the final tie that attached him to his father, devout Ruler of the Nearbeens grounds… and he could do nothing about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nearsbeen

**Author's Note:**

> Prepare for completely inaccurate things about our gamers, yes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dispute, some background, world building, and a chance for freedome

There were Five Rules you had to follow in Nearbeens.

**One - Your Registered name was the name that you went by in all social situations.**

**Two - Your True name was only revealed to your Family, your Magistrate, and your Mate.**

**Three - Never interact with the other Territories or wander near the Boundaries of Nearbeens.**

**Four - Obey the Rules of your Class (Class designation listed in the Dharmas)**

**Five - In the most special of Cases, a Subject may be exempt. However, no Royals can sway from the Subordination to these rules.**

* * *

"State your Registered name."

"Chaoticmonki."

"You two have been seen along the boundaries of the Nearbeens Territory." The massive guards stood along either side of the teenager, glaring down at him menacingly. The magistrate in front of Cry stood with the most furious scowl he had ever seen on the man’s face.

"I still don’t understand why it is wrong to approach the-" The gavel slammed down on the hardwood, unexpectedly denting the heavy, dense wood.

"Do you know the rules of your Class?!"

The Classes were engrained into everyone’s mind as neonates, sound discs playing to put the Rules and all sub-documents into the infants.

"What are you… Cryaotic, as you have short-Named yourself?"

"… I’m a Deber."

That was the final tie, Cry realised; the final tie that attached him to his father, devout Ruler of the Nearbeens grounds… and he could do nothing about it.

"As you’re Deber, you are subject to all Laws set down by the Dharma, the Five Laws. You are not able to break any of those Laws.  _Any_.” The Magistrate stared down at his son, reveling in the bit of power that he had over his subject. No one, not even his Family, was out of his control. It was glorifying to him.

"… Yes sir…"

Cry was led home, a Tracking Ring attached to his ankle. No matter where he would go, the Magistrate would keep his keen eye on his son.

Too bad Cry was the one that designed these Models.

* * *

Pewdiepie sat on the branch of the tall Oak tree that bordered Nearsbeen. He had been told by his mother, High Priestess of Provecia, not to wander near those borders, danger coming to all who dared venture near the Nearbeens territory, but her son had been intrigued the day another boy - a “Deber,” whatever that was - came near the Fence and had begun to speak to him.

Pewdie smiled at the memory, how the boy had fallen into a puddle, but, again, only a boy, Pewdie hadn’t been able to help him. He had laughed instead. Chaoticmonki – or Cry, as Pewdie had short-Named him – had frowned and had laughed as well.

He sat on the branch of the tall Oak tree that bordered Nearsbeen, and he began to sing.

“ _Rida, rida ranka,_  
hästen heter Blanka.  
 _Liten riddare så rar_  
ännu inga sporrar har.  
 _När han dem har vunnit,_  
barndomsro försvunnit.”

“Pewds?” Pewdiepie looked down and smiled as Cry made his way to the fence, the thick metal beams blocking each from meeting face to face truly, but they were visible to each other and that made them both happy.

“Cry!” He waved at the Nearsbeen native with a giant grin on his face. It went away, however, when he saw the desperate look on his friend’s face. Pewdie climbed down the tree as fast as he could, worried.

“Cry? What’s wrong?”

“My father… The Magistrate, he found out I’ve been coming here.” Cry reached through the fence, wanting Pewdie to touch his hand at least. When the other’s hand grazed his skin before holding his fingers, intertwining them, he sighed in relief. Whenever he saw the Provecia-Royal, he was glad inside. It was as though his worries could leave him for the rest of the day.

“Did he put a Tracking Ring-”

“It’s okay. I dismantled it a bit and left it at home. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Pewdie smiled at him. He pulled Cry’s hand a bit closer. Bending down a bit, he laid a kiss on the other’s hand.

Cry pursed his lips and then relaxed, a soft blush settling on his cheeks. Pewdie had always expressed affection for him like that.

He wondered if the other knew what all those kisses meant.

“Don‘t worry about it, Cry. It’ll be okay.” Pewdie stood erect and smiled at his friend. Both Royals and they couldn’t be friends? It made no sense to him.

He heard that a long time ago that Royals would intermarry from other different territories or “Kingdoms,” as the Tome had read, and then relations could be better than before.

If only Cry could marry him…

He’d like that a lot.

* * *

Pewdie wandered near the Central area of the Capital town of Gothenburg. He often wondered why the two main Capital cities were next to each other, but he didn’t question his mother, never wanting to sway her in her judgements that regularly took place.

Perhaps the towns…

No, they’d always been separate, since the beginning of their Days in that precipice… That year.

6223…

AD.

Whatever “AD” meant. Many things had been lost in years of conflict; hopefully it could be regained.

He could gain Cry’s love…

That would be wonderful.

* * *

Cry bit his lip, blood running down his chin as it split. The whip left rising welts on his back and he could hear his mother crying for his son’s forgiveness.

_'I did nothing wrong…'_

The Magistrate left his son and wife. Being only married into the family and only after Cry’s Blood Father had died, Cry knew he should have become Magistrate…

He saw the bottle of wine on the cabinet that stood next to where he was struck.

“Perhaps…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info on The Nearsbeen Territory:
> 
> This is a Patriarchal society (meaning men rule, rather than women). It was settled by Cry’s great-(x23)-grandfather.
> 
> Classes:
> 
> Dharma - The Highest. The Determiner of Registered Names and the Advisor to the Royals. They decide themselves who shall inherit their Class. They are also the Spiritual Leaders in Nearbeens.  
> Deber - The Royal Class, including the Magistrate as Ruler of Nearbeens. They are decided by direct relation (father to son, brother to brother, brother to brother-in-law). Men traditionally rule. If there is no Male inheritor, a Female from the family shall be decided by the Dharma. They are subject to all Rules laid down by the Dharma.  
> Shuds - Workers. They have free Reign in occupation. They are subject to all Rules that the Deber places upon them. There are sub-Classes to the Shuds, inherited by direct relation or inherited by written Will.
> 
> All words are relating to the English word “Duty”.  
> Dharma - the spiritual duty (Hinduism)  
> Deber - the noun/conjugate-able verb for “Duty/Must”  
> Shud - phonetic/written play on the English verb “should”
> 
> Info on the Provecia Lands:
> 
> This is an equally Matriarchal/Patriarchal society (meaning both men and women have the ability to rule equally). It was once a wasteland territory, but the discovery of an oasis and several wells brought up the opportunity for a society to develop. The discovery of such water sources was made by Pewdie’s great-(x19)-grandparents. This also kind of pissed off Cry’s ancestors… just a bit. Their laws are pretty similar to the Nearsbeen laws. However, the three classes are equal under the laws. Royalty is decided by blood, but they are bound to a Contract that is sworn into at the age of 16.
> 
> Classes:
> 
> Andlig Plikt - They are similar to the Dharma in that they assigned Registered names. They also are the originators of Registered names. They believe strongly in the idea of a name as a Connection to spirituality.  
> Skyldighet - This is the name of the Royal Class. They are more like Overseers for Provecia than anything else.  
> Skull - The name that is assigned to the working and lower classes.
> 
> Children are known as “måstes” until they reach the age of 16 years. They receive a prefix to their title should they be a member of the Royal class (Skyl-Måste) or the Priest class (Andlig-Måste).
> 
> Andlig Plikt - “Spiritual duty” in Swedish  
> Skyldighet - the translation of the Spanish verb “Deber” into Swedish  
> Skull - Play on the word “skulle” which is the Swedish translation for “should”.  
> Måste - The Swedish translation for the word “must”
> 
> “Rida, Rida, Ranka” = a Swedish song for children (can be found here ® http://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=578&c=86)


	2. Provecia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cry, getting a chance at freedom and happiness, is trapped with all evidence supporting it.

Cry came before the Dharmas, eyes determined. The Magistrate looked over at him, hands on his belt and collar-like Pendant, one that wove around his neck and marked the skin gold and silver, the identifying objects of Magistrates come and gone.

“Ry-“

“The Magistrate shall not speak. Cry, Testify.”

* * *

Pewdiepie was curled against his mother in her bed. She had not felt easy these past three days, three days since he saw Cry last.

“I feel as though a great wind shall Pass, Pewdiepie…” Yngling whispered, grabbing his hand tightly. Already he was a Skyldighet, no longer a petty child, but a born ruler. Already he was sworn to the Contract and he would be a great ruler, certainly.

“M… Yngling,” the man whispered, using his mother’s Registered name. He would never dare say “Mama” as he was accustomed to when the Nurses were near, their ears ever listening for gossip. His mother had learned to speak in Tongues – which Pewdie had read to be something demonic from old tomes, but now just meant “riddles” – as to avoid any spread of rumours.

The Nurses left and Yngling pulled her boy closer.

“Your ancestors… the first Skyldighets… They told of the day that peace would Reign, Felix.” Pewdie pulled closer to her still, her heart beating through the clothes that separated them and his doing the same. She said his Name, his True Name.

“Johanna…” He whispered her True Name and she began to pet his hair.

“Mama… What else shall arise from this?” He got to ask no more, the opportunity deprived from him, as a large din came from outside of their abode, the large castle wall that surrounded Gothenburg.

Yngling stood, her pallor pale, and strode over to the door, her long-sword in hand. She opened the door and waved to an attendant. “What goings-on is this?”

“My high Skyldighet, the Magistrate, high Skyldighet of the Nearsbeen territory, has been tried, seized, and executed for the crimes of Adultery, Unjustified Abuse of Kin, and Murder of the Previous Magistrate.”

The attendant leaving and only her son remaining in her presence, Yngling stared up to the sky. “Erik Victorious…” she murmured, letting the name of their first male Skyldighet to pass her lips, asking him for Guidance.

Pewdiepie cast a look to his mother and then dashed to the closest stairway, hoping that he was wrong.

He avoided the hustle that was occurring in the Center of Gothenburg, all citizens wondering whether or not to attempt to overthrow Nearsbeen in their hour of weakness. He ran to the base of the tall Oak Tree and saw Cry there waiting for him. He had a small smile on his face until he saw the objects that Cry was wearing.

“Cry… What the fuck..?” he uttered softly as he approached the fence. The Moon was pale above them, the Sun not yet rearing its head but just gently illuminating the sky, enough to dull the Moon and leave its white face exposed to them.

The intricate design of gold and silver encased Cry’s neck, the belt around his waist signifying his new position.

Magistrate.

* * *

Yngling walked ahead of her son, her face stoic and cold as they walked towards the assigned meeting point set up centuries ago.

The Banc de Mijloc…

She stepped forward, Pewdiepie following right behind her. Her son seemed nervous and she addressed this quietly.

“… I am acquainted with the Magistrate.”

The Skyldighet pulled away from her son. That man… That Nearsbeen man was the friend that her son had told her about? All the games that the two had played and had been retold to her, ones she thought originated from childish self-games when her son was lonely…

It finally made sense. Her son had ceased telling her these stories once he turned sixteen. That was only three years ago. It was the only for him to ensure the idea… That she thought her son had had a friend of imagination… She would no longer suspect…

“Did he kill his father?”

“Uncle, Yngling. Six months ago, his uncle killed his father with a poisoned wine, their Coroners have discovered, and Cry brought this before their Priests, the Dharmas. He then kept the man who would become Magistrate incarcerated in their abode, abusing him.” Pewdie closed his eyes. How could he have not told his Mother about what was going on?

“And the Adultery?”

“I had no knowledge of that.”

They came to the doors of the Meeting Chamber. The oldest priest of the Nearsbeen Territory came forward to induct them to the Meeting Chamber.

“There are no Battles that shall be fought within these walls. If any come forth, Blood shall come from the heights where Water once did. Lightning shall strike all before anyone can e’er say it lightens. Death tomorrow shall become today.”

They entered the Chamber where Pewdie could see Cry enter on the opposite site. His friend caught his gaze and the upper corners of his mouth began to twitch upward before a hand of a Dharma touched his shoulder.

“Skyldighet Yngling. Greetings.” Pewdie shivered slightly at his friend’s voice. It sounded a bit cold, calculating.

“Magistrate Chaoticmonki, greetings to you and your party.” Yngling stepped forward and bowed, which Cry returned in like.

“What concerns do you bring with you to the Banc?” Cry asked, remembering all the protocol and the reason as to why they were all here.

“My brothers and sisters are wondering what you intended to do now as Magistrate.”

Cry smiled and chuckled softly. “I was hoping for an opportunity, Skyldighet Yngling; An opportunity to create peaceful relations with your Lands.”

She blinked. “What sort of opportunity?” He had the look of a shy predator, his eyes slightly glazed over with a small spark of lust… and in the direction of her?

“Perhaps a Union?”

No…

“A Marriage?”

Her son.

“A Marriage?” she asked.

“To the one with the Registered Name ‘Pewdiepie’,” Cry stated, almost declaring ownership, dominance. Yngling turned to her son, wondering – secretly hoping – if the expression on Pewdiepie’s face was that of negation.

His face was of surprise and a small bright emotion.

Joy.

Yngling turned back to the Magistrate, seeing the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

“I shall quietly, politely, Negate your Marriage proposal, Magistrate.” She could hear the small rustle of fabric and knew her son was staring at her with a repressed anger that she had only seen once since his father died.

“Pewdiepie is still young…  Perhaps we can discuss this more in depth at another time when it can be viewed more privately than here with both of our Priests present.”

Cry looked over at his Dharma and agreed.

“Another time then, Skyldighet.”

The two groups separated, Cry not looking back at all as Pewdie looked at him longingly.

* * *

**“NEJ!”**

The day after the Meeting…

Skyldighet Yngling was found dead in the center of Gothenburg, a Nearsbeen-manufactured knife in her chest.

Pewdiepie pulled Cry’s Magistrate collar out of her gnarled hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yngling – Name for the Migration Age Swedish Kings; also called the Scylfing dynasty
> 
> Eric Victorious – the first King of Sweden
> 
> If you’re wondering about the random capitalisation of words, it’s because I like random capitalisation. It’s also to emphasize the word.
> 
> Banc de Mijloc – Romanian for “Middle Ground,” neutral territory for people that may not know the term.


	3. Quick Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick resolution and some sexy stuff with bondage~

Pewdiepie made sure to have his arm clasps securely attacked to his forearms, the armor protecting him with the same power as they did his mother. He looked down at the symbols, the Trifold that represented their Goddesses as one. He closed his eyes and remembered the song his mother sang to him as a Skyl-Måste.

_Yngling pet her child’s head, lulling him to bed after another nightmare. Stephano, his cousin, really should stop telling him such frightening stories._

_Pewdiepie cradled against her, his head on her breasts and listening to the calming beat of her heart._

_"♫ Vi gå över daggstänkta berg, fallera’!,_   
_som lånat av smaragderna sin färg, fallera’!_   
_Och sorger ha vi inga,_   
_våra glada visor klinga_   
_när vi år över daggstänkta berg, fallera’!”_

_He loved the way she sang to him. Since Papa had gone to battle and had never returned, only his Shield, the Mark of the Skyldighet, brought back from the battlefield, his Mama had been taking such good care of him._

_"♪De gamla och kloka må le, fallera’!,_   
_vi äro ej förståndiga som de, fallera’!_   
_Men vem skulle sjunga_   
_om våren den unga,_   
_om vi vore kloka som de?, fallera’!”_

_He was falling into the spell of Sleep when she kissed the top of his head._

_"I love you, mama…"_

_"My Felix…"_

"…Mama…"

* * *

There were no Wars, as Cry had often read from Tomes, anymore.

The Predecessors knew that Wars did not serve any true Value and that it all lied in Decisions and Knowledges passed down from their ancestors.

In the Banc, there would be no Dharmas or Andlig Plikt.

Only the talking of the Skyldighet and the Magistrate. The Banc’s Guardian - a girl by the name of Cutiepie - would record the minutes from outside the room the Tome of Time being etched with the words that were of the Meeting.

"I welcome you to the Meeting." She bowed to Pewdiepie as he approached. "Magistrate Chaoticmonki is inside awaiting your presence in Traditional Garb. What have you adorned?"

"I have on me the symbols of Fertility, Love, and the Guard, that I may protect my people." He recited these as his mother had taught him. "Tunic for the Unity of All, and the Cape addressing my shoulders is only so that I may be protected by my people as well, should I receive such honour."

Cutiepie smiled. She knew his True Name, having lived with his family before she was chosen to be one of the Banc. “I hope you two make good, Felix,” she whispered, so quietly that not even the dust that was in the air could have moved.

Pewdie gave her a small smile. “I hope so, too, Marzia.”

He walked inside and heard the door lock behind him. Pewdiepie looked at the Magistrate, Cry.

There was a Mask in his hand, a white one with net covering the small eyeholes. The mouth on the Mask was a straight stoic line. His Garb was like one of those historical Ninjas, though the sleeves and trousers were a bit puffy. There was an empty quiver on his back, one to hold arrows. The exploding objects were nowhere in sight, all Weapons and Crafts prohibited from the Banc.

"Greetings, Skyldighet Pewdiepie."

In that moment, Pewdie realised that nothing was truly the same.

They were no longer friends.

"Greetings, Magistrate Chaoticmonki." The other’s eyes lost some light. Pewdie held out the other’s collar-necklace. "This was found, you have been told, in the grasp of Skyldighet Yngling."

Cry gently took it from the other, examining it. He held out documentations, the seal of the Dharmas and even the Anglar Plikts on them. “This was found, you have not been told, in the recent circumstances, in my Abode. They are quite treacherous.”

Pewdie took the documents and and began to leaf through them, seating himself at the table that had been ignored since they entered the room. The seals were all of Observation, meaning the Priests of both lands had gazed upon the script of the pages.

They were Deliveries.

Of Weapons.

Of Craft materials.

And there it was.

A Map of the Abode of the Skyldighets.

A strategy to eliminate Yngling, Pewdie’s mother, in such a way that would pin all of the blame on Cry.

Signed by one of the Debers that Pewdie had seen before at a Meeting years ago as a child. He wore cloaks to cover all of his body, but Pewdie had seen him once.

It was as though Grunt, the Deber, was composed of several bodies, none too similar and decomposing with an awful stench.

The Grunt had killed his mother.

He looked up at Cry.

"I wouldn’t do that to you, Pewds. I would never have hurt your mother." Cry sat down at the table with him and steadily reached across to hold the Skyldighet’s hand.

"Cry…"

They leaned forward and their lips met softly and shortly.

"I’d say we solved this issue."

Cry chuckled. “I’d say so.”

* * *

More assassination attempts occured and were thwarted, now that the Grunt had been identified as the killer.

Years went by.

Then came Pewdiepie’s twenty-second anniversary of birth, on the 24th moon of Oktober.

And his year anniversary of his Marriage to Cry.

Their Territories bonded, slowly assimilating into each other to become one, it was a much more peaceful time period than that of their predecessors. All were joyous.

In the Abode of his Husband, Pewdiepie was holding another Tome to his chest, blushing at the pictures that were inside. They were nude pictures, but they were all in sexual positions, none that he had ever seen before.

"What are you looking at?" Cry appeared, the Mask over his face.

"Just… What is going on here?" He showed Cry the Tome. Cry took off his Mask and smirked at the pictures.

"Do you want to try it?" He kept smiling at Pewdie’s blush.

"Um… Do you know how?"

"That  _is_  my book.”

Pewdiepie nodded nervously and followed Cry to their bed chambers. He was pushed down onto the mattress, the same one that they had consummated their Marriage on.

The foreplay was nice and easy, like all the other times they had done so. Cry sat up and grabbed one of the belts to Pewdie’s smooth fabric robes.

"Turn around." Pewdie turned his back to Cry, completely nude, and placed his arms behind his back like in the pictures. Cry tied them there, restraining the limbs of any mobility.

His arms were okay, Pewdie commented, loving the feeling of vulnerability for some reason. He knew Cry would please him, keep him safe, as they pushed forward.

Cry moaned loudly as, not too long later, Pewdie shifted his hips, taking in more of the other’s penis, their bodies One, shifting in the Ritual that all humans had engrained into their blood, their very Minds, their bodies arching against each other to feel every measure of each other; being One was not enough, they had to exist as extensions of one being.

Their voices rang out like a song, one so old, Gods and God smiled at the love they shared.

And they saw it was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The children’s song and the English translation for it are all in the link here —> http://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=575&c=86
> 
> Marzia had to be here. She just had too. Stephano as well.
> 
> Weapons and Crafts: Weapons and Crafts, such as magick. Fancy stuff you got there, Pewdie  
> The Grunt: Yep, the Bro killed Pewdie’s mama.  
> Oktober: Spelled like that because reasons.  
> Bondage: Because reasons.  
> Gods/God: Who knows why there’s something religious in here?


End file.
